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Thursday, December 4, 2014

In Bed With a Spy by Alyssa Alexander

I have waited soooo long for this book. I read THE SMUGGLER WORE SILK in two nights--much to Hubs' dismay since I had to leave my bedside lamp on. But, oh, was it worth it. I was captivated by Alyssa's story and her writing is top notch. At the end of Smuggler was an excerpt for her next book, IN BED WITH A SPY. December 2nd couldn't come soon enough. Now, it's here and I'm reading it! It's even better than I anticipated. And here's Alyssa to tell us about the book.

When Diane asked me to blog about how IN BED WITH A SPY came about, I was so excited
to share this story! It was complete happenstance. One thing led to another
thing, then another—and suddenly, there it was. An idea I couldn’t wait to put
down on paper (or on screen, depending on the day). So here’s how it came
about…

My
very first completed manuscript is hidden in the deepest, darkest desk drawer I
can find—and it will stay there for eternity as long as I have anything to say
about it. But one of the characters, Julian Travers, Earl of Langford, was the
hero’s best friend and ended up with his own story in my debut novel, THE
SMUGGLER WORE SILK.

And,
like that first hero, Julian has a best friend, more or less. Spies don’t work
alone, after all. They are part of a network and assist each other in the
investigation of nefarious (and interesting to write) characters. In walks
Angel, or, rather, in climbs Angel, as we first meet him trying to break in
Julian’s bedroom on his wedding night. When I first wrote about Angel in THE
SMUGGLER WORE SILK, he had no real name, just that code name. But I knew
exactly what he looked like and I knew his story. He nearly walked off with a couple
of scenes in that book because he was so real to me.

When
I finished THE SMUGGLER WORE SILK (titled To
Tempt A Smuggler in those days), I immediately started IN BED WITH A SPY.
Angel had a story, and I was the one to tell it. But he needed a heroine, of
course, and I had to find her, stat.

I
started researching British military history one morning around 4:30 am,
because I knew I wanted Angel to have a military background. And Lilias fell
into my brain from the ether. Fully-formed, in all her sabre-wielding,
rebellious, vengeful and passionate glory. I had an image of Lilias on
horseback during battle, sabre held high as she let out a battle cry. And I
knew my girl. Whenever I felt like I lost her character while writing, I
brought that image of her to mind. This was no wilting wallflower. This was a
warrior.

And
so, without further ado, here is the scene that defines Lilias in my mind:

June 18, 1815

On a bloody field near Waterloo

The woman shouldn’t have
been in the thick of battle. But she rose out of the acrid smoke, perched high
atop a chestnut horse and wearing the blue coat of a light cavalry officer.

The Marquess of Angelstone staggered through rows of trampled
corn, shock rippling through him as the woman’s sabre flashed. A shrill whistle
sounded overhead. Instinctively, Angel ducked as cannon artillery pounded into
the ranks, blasting into the earth and showering him with dirt and black
powder.

The woman on horseback didn’t flinch.

He staggered forward, coughing, ears ringing, as soldiers around
him fell or scattered. Pressing a hand to his jacket pocket, Angel fingered the
square shape of the letter he carried there. He hadn’t known he’d have to fight
his way to Wellington to deliver it.

The horse turned a tight circle, one of the woman’s hands gripping
the reins while the other brandished a cavalry sabre. Her grip on the blade was
untrained, her movements awkward.

But fury and hate blazed from her eyes and fueled her sabre as it
sliced across the chest of a French soldier. The man collapsed, shrieking and
clutching at welling blood.

The woman turned away, already arcing her sabre toward another
enemy soldier, and Angel lost sight of her.

Reflex sent Angel’s bayonet plunging as a Frenchman reared up in
front of him, face contorted by fear. When the man screamed, regret shot
through Angel before he forced it away. It was kill or be killed. There was no
time for regret.

He surged forward with the ranks of foot soldiers, compelled to
look for the woman. The muddied ground sucked at his feet, threatening to pull
him beneath thundering hooves and panicked soldiers. Broken cornstalks slashed
at his face. The sulfur smell of black powder burned his nose, mixing with the
scent of men’s fear.

He fought past a charging enemy soldier, spun away from another
and saw her again.

Soot streaked her grim face. She grinned at the enemy standing
before her—and the smile was terrible. The man paled, but aimed his rifle at
her. He was not fast enough to beat her sword.

When that soldier, too, fell under her sabre, she looked up. Over
the dead soldier and through the swirling gray smoke, Angel met her eyes. They
were a chilling, pale blue and held only one thing.

Vengeance.

She pulled on the reins and her horse reared up, hooves pawing at
the air. Angel planted his feet and braced for impact. But the hooves never
struck. The woman kept her seat, her jaw clenched, and continued to hold his
gaze.

The battle faded away, booming cannons falling on his deaf ears.
The gray, writhing smoke veiled every dying soldier, every hand-to-hand battle being waged around him.

He only saw her merciless eyes. Blood roared in his ears and the
beat of his pulse became as loud as the cannons. A high, powerful note sang
through him.

The woman’s horse whinnied as its hooves struck the earth again.
Standing in the stirrups, she thrust her sword aloft and howled. The battle cry
echoed over the field and carried with it the sting of rage and unfathomable
grief. She wheeled the horse, spurred his sides and charged through battling
soldiers, her blond hair streaming behind her.

And she was gone, obscured by clouds of dark smoke and the chaos
of battle.

If you like the Prologue to IN BED WITH A SPY, and I hope you do,
here is a little bit more about the book:

Revenge has never been so seductive.

When her husband is killed at Waterloo, Lilias Fairchild takes up
his cavalry sword and boldly storms the front, earning herself the nickname
Angel of Vengeance. But there is another angel on the battlefield who is just
as single-minded, and just as ruthless…

Alastair Whitmore, the Marquess of Angelstone, is a British spy.
Code name: Angel. Still haunted by a first love felled by assassins, his
mission draws him to Waterloo, where he is captivated by a beautiful and
mysterious woman fighting amongst the men—a woman who becomes his most intoxicating
memory of war.

Passion has never been so dangerous.

Two years later, Lilias and Angelstone lock eyes in a crowded
ballroom and the memory returns in an exhilarating rush. The history they
share, and hide from the world, is as impossible to ignore as the heat of their
attraction. But it’s that very connection that spells doom for their scandalous
affair. When someone from the shadows of their past proves a dire threat to
their lives, passion might not be enough to save them.

Alyssa Alexander is the author of THE SMUGGLER WORE SILK, which
garnered 4.5 Stars and Top Pick from Romantic Times. Her second book, IN BED
WITH A SPY, released December 2 and received a Starred Review from Publisher’s
Weekly and 4.5 Stars and Top Pick from Romantic Times. She is a Google-Fu
aficionado, lives with entirely too many cats, and is grateful every day for
the wonderful Mr. Alexander and her small boy-child, Biscuit, who often wears a
knight-in-shining-armor costume—which is fitting, since his mother writes
romance novels.

Diane Burton combines her love of mystery, adventure, science fiction and romance into writing romantic fiction.
For more info and excerpts from her books, visit Diane’s website: http://www.dianeburton.com

I usually don't read historical novels. Like Diane, I love science fiction and fantasy adventures. However, as I read the excerpt from In Bed With a Spy, the description of Lilias in action immediately brought to mind Xena, Warrior Princess. Your Lilias and Xena could be kindred souls. Of course, that means I'll have to read the book to find out. :)